Destined to Meet
by Zuzivlas
Summary: My answer to the "How the characters met" challenge showing that sometimes, destiny has our lives planned out way ahead and what may seem as coincidence is actually a path set out long ago.
1. Aramis & Porthos

_A/N I couldn't help myself and started working on the "How the characters met" challenge from the Musketeers forum. I hope my take on it will be a little unexpected for most :)_

_It's going to be a combination of book verse and 2011 movie verse. I keep the marriage between Athos and Milady but use roughly the ages the 4 had in the movie. In this story, by the time D'Artagnan joins them, he is 18, Aramis is around 28, Athos is around 30 and Porthos is around 35. Oh yeah, it's going to have 6 chapters though I think most of you will be able to guess why when you finish reading the intro paragraph and this chapter._

_Enjoy!_

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><p>Fate usually works in unimaginable ways that aren't clear to mere mortals. It twists and turns, pulls lives together and apart and sometimes back together again. It has a wicked sense of humour and sometimes too much love for irony. We are all slaves to it and as much as we fight it, certain things are set in stone and can't be avoided. So too, the meeting of the four inseparables might at the first glance look like coincidence although it's not. Four men who couldn't be more different sharing loyalty to France and King, love for adventure and a dangerous life. Four men who became soldiers through different paths that somehow joined at one point. Four men that fate had brought together before they became great friends without them knowing or remembering, marking them as destined to meet each other once more in the future to form something much greater than any of them. Four men who at one point weren't the valiant musketeers known as Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnan but mere boys or young men known as Olivier, Isaac, René and Charles (1).<p>

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><p>Isaac was an unruly child at the best of days. Far too energetic for his own good, he was the menace of the neighbourhood, always in some trouble or other. His clothes constantly needed repairing and never did a day go by when it didn't take half an hour to clean him of all the dirt he had gathered. Though only 13, he already began exhibiting interest in girls and it was clear than once a fully grown man, he would break the hearts of many a maiden. But despite all that, the several gray hairs on his mother's crown and wrinkles on his father's face that were his fault, his parents couldn't be more proud of the boy. For all his faults, he had the heart of gold and always protected those weaker than himself if they needed it, uncaring of the danger or injury it got him.<p>

And so, it wasn't all that surprising that he interfered when he one day saw a little scrawny boy being harassed by a group of youths near where he lived. The boy tried to fight them off but it was painfully clear that he stood no chance against the 5 boys who were older and much bigger than him. His nose was bleeding, he favoured his right hand and scraped his knees when they pushed him around from one youth to another, making him fall onto the ground. Isaac ran to the group just before they stomped on the boy's chest.

"What do you think you're doing? Leave him alone!"

The boys knew of Isaac, some of them had fought him before and lost and seeing him this enraged made them back off, even if they were 5 against 1. The leader of the group didn't want to admit defeat though and stood against the newcomer, feeling secure in the knowledge that he had his friends to back him up.

"And why would we do that?"

"Because I'm telling you to leave him be. Go find somebody your own size instead of picking on kids!"

"Oh? But why shouldn't we pick on him? This is our turf and he doesn't belong here. I suggest you leave before we do to you what we did to him."

"In your wildest dreams."

With that the leader threw himself at Isaac, thinking that his companions would do the same and help him. They remained glued to the spot however and watched as Isaac made quick work of their friend. Sporting a newly broken nose, the boy ran away in shame and fear of the stronger boy, closely followed by the rest after just one glare from Isaac. Scowling at the fleeing cowards, Isaac knelt down and dusting his clothes, helped the kid get back up to his shaky feet. The kid looked at him with grateful albeit tearful eyes.

"Thank you for saving me."

"Don't mention it. I hate bullies and they had no right to be that mean to you. What's your name little one?"

The boy used his sleeve to wipe some of the blood running from his nose before he answered.

"I'm René."

"Hey René, I'm Isaac."

René gave him a shy smile that Isaac took as a good sign.

"René, how old are you?"

"I turned 6 last week."

Isaac knew that René wasn't from around here and wondered what such a little boy was doing alone. His clothes showed that he wasn't a street urchin.

"René, do you know where your parents are?"

At this, the boy's eyes filled with unshed tears once more as he shook his head no.

"I lost them and couldn't find them. And then those boys came and... and..."

"Shhh, it's ok René. It's all going to be ok. How about you come with me to my home and we can have my parents help look for yours? Surely you must be hungry and hurting."

The boy nodded his head and let Isaac lead the way, keeping close to his protector in fear that he might lose him too. The moment they arrived, Isaac's mother descended upon the boys, hearing her son out and ordering the maid to get some warm water and towels to clean Rene's injuries. She sent her husband to talk to several people letting it be known that the boy was with them, making it easier for the undoubtedly worried parents to find him. Bandaging him up, she praised René for being brave since he didn't cry none during the procedure and offered him some food. Isaac kept hovering around, feeling somehow responsible for René and unwilling to leave his side.

An hour later, a pair knocked at their front door almost frantically and the moment they saw René, yelled out his name in relief. Despite his injuries, René ran to them and hugged them tightly. His mother kept kissing him, tears of relief running down her face. They explained that they were just going through the town on their way to their new home when they had gotten separated from René. They offered Isaac's parents money but they refused, saying that it was the least they could do. René's father personally thanked Isaac for saving his boy, making the youth squirm under so much praise.

Thanking them once more, René's father took the boy into his arms and carried him away. The last thing Isaac saw before they left was René waving at him. Somehow, he had the feeling that they would meet again.

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><p><em>1 – Yes, in this story the names we associate with them so much won't really be used a lot, if at all. Instead I'm using the names they had before they became musketeers:<em>

_Athos is __Olivier__ as in Olivier d'Athos de la Fère__ as used in the books_

_Porthos is Isaac__ as that is the name of the person the character is based on since there is no first name of Porthos' known_

_Aramis is René__ as in René d'Herblay as stated in the book and_

_D'Artagnan is __Charles__ as in Charles Ogier de Batz de Castelmore, the real person the character represents._


	2. Porthos & D'Artagnan

_A/N I realized that in the previous post I forgot to mention that each chapter will be a separate snippet of their lives and that they will be posted in the chronological order in which the events happened. Also, I'm probably cheating D'Artagnan's presence in this but it was too sweet a concept to pass up. Speaking of which, as you have undoubtedly noticed, each chapter will be named based on who meets whom._

_Enjoy!_

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><p>It had been a bittersweet few days for Isaac's family. His father and his musketeer comrades had finally decided to give the life of adventure and fighting a rest and pursue a more quiet family life instead. Personally, Isaac didn't have much understanding for the choice, it's not like his father hadn't been a musketeer for all his life anyway but he partly understood that he felt too old for the job by now. He was ready to pass the torch to his son in a year or two and since his friends were leaving, he decided to retire himself right now too. Well, Isaac didn't exactly mind, it would mean getting more training before he left which was always good. Not that he wasn't a great fighter by now as it was mind.<p>

However, his father was sad as the days grew closer to saying goodbye to some of his closest friends, the men that saved his life on numerous occasions, the men that bled for the King and France alongside him. It was beginning to draw on him that he may never see most of them again. It was only then that Isaac realized just how precious the bond between musketeers really was, just how much they meant to each other and found it difficult to say goodbye. It was a profound realization as up until now, the life of a musketeer to him really was more about the swashbuckling and romance than anything else, no matter what his father told him. But seeing the usually stoic man so sad made a great impact upon his son.

Isaac was thinking about it as he practiced his fencing outside when he heard his parents talking to one of the other former musketeers who was leaving with his wife to his birthplace, Gascony. They visited to say a final goodbye no doubt. Porthos couldn't really remember his name, D'Art-something, he just remembered that he was a smaller man that his father was rather fond of. Putting his sword away, he went inside to join his parents and offer moral support. It was clear that the musketeer's wife was heavily pregnant and would give birth to their child soon; Isaac guessed that that was the reason why they were moving back to Gascony. Currently, she was sitting on a comfortable chair and rubbing her large belly gently, wincing every now and again.

Worried that something may not be right with her, Isaac used the fact that the men were discussing something heatedly while his mother went to order more wine and asked her if she was alright. She smiled up at him and reassured him that everything was ok, that her baby was simply restless and kicking more than usual. She then laughed gently at Isaac' confused face and asked if he would like to feel it. Unsure whether it would be acceptable or not although the offer came from her, he nodded. She took his right hand in hers and rested it palm down on the spot the baby was currently kicking at. Isaac almost jumped when he felt the first gentle kick against his palm and smiled in wonder by the second.

"Ah, I take it that the baby is kicking again? God, I remember when I was carrying you Isaac, there where nights when you just wouldn't let me sleep. Not much has changed since then has it? Well, perhaps your methods..."

Blushing deep red, Isaac pulled his hand away, still remembering the feel of the baby moving around. The pregnant wife laughed again and smiled up at Isaac once more.

"Surely he's only brining you joy these days. Look at him, all grown up and ready to face the world. I'm certain he'll make you both proud."

"Oh he has already. It just won't be the same once he leaves to become a musketeer."

His ears catching the word musketeer, the smaller man joined them, giving Isaac an appraising look.

"Do I hear correctly that you want to join the musketeers young man?"

"Yes sir. It's what I want more than anything else."

"Hmmm, your father taught you how to fight well?"

"Yes sir."

At this, Isaac's chest puffed slightly with pride.

"Well then, I'm glad to know that France will be in capable hands even if we are leaving. Perhaps one day, if God graces me with a son, he will join you and become a musketeer like his father."

Isaac wasn't so sure about it as he would be at least 17 years older than the boy but he nodded politely anyway. Soon, he excused himself thanking the mother-to-be for allowing him to feel the baby kick and went out to practice some more. He would only be in the way of the four who wanted to share their potentially last moments together in peace.


	3. Athos & D'Artagnan

_A/N I know that Grimaud wouldn't be their servant at the time but let's just say I'm following the 2011 movie with Planchet being the only servant of the musketeers and felt that Grimaud deserved at least a mention :P_

_Special thanks to LadyWallace whose newest chapter (23) of __All for One__ definitely inspired a part of this._

_Enjoy!_

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><p>Olivier was on the verge of becoming a man and fully earning the title of Comte de la Fère when his father decided that they go spend the summer in Gascony. What was the reason of this idea Olivier didn't know, he felt quite well in their family residence with all of their servants and peasants that honoured them. His father however thought that it would do his son some good to see a different life and not just the sheltered one he got back home. Plus, it would be nice to get away from all the intrigues of nobles that couldn't normally be avoided and simply spend some father son time. They hadn't done that since Olivier was big enough to pronounce the words politics and intrigue correctly. Soon, his son would undoubtedly find a woman that either his heart would beat for or his noble status requested and he would lose his beloved Olivier for good. And so he ordered his son to pack his things and took him to Gascony. Their only companion was the loyal but quiet servant Grimaud meaning that they would be undisturbed in their activities.<p>

He got them a small country house not too far away from a village, small by the Comte de la Fère standards but plenty for two men and a servant. Grimaud was currently working on cleaning everything and making it inhabitable so he decided to take Olivier for a ride. Perhaps he could even interest his son in a race, it's been years since he got to see that carefree smile on his young but often too serious face. Wanting to please his father and realizing that there really wasn't much else he could do, Olivier agreed and went to ready their horses. Even though he had servants do almost everything for him, he never let anybody else touch his beloved steed and always took care of him himself.

Once both were sitting atop their horses, his father turned to him with a mischievous spark in his eyes and proposed a race. Perhaps it was the Gascony air, perhaps it was boredom or maybe Olivier really missed those moments with his father because he graced him with a smile and accepted. The Comte chuckled at Olivier's mocking words addressed to his own age and the age of his horse and reminded his son that experience counted for lot. Quickly agreeing on the route, they kicked their horses into a gallop, neither willing to let the other win.

Olivier knew that his father was a skilled horseman and that once they entered the forest, he would have the upper hand. Because of that, he tried to gain as much of a head start as possible, taking advantage of his faster horse. His father had to commend him on his tactics, it really was Olivier's best bet. By the time the Comte reached the forest, his boy had long disappeared between the trees.

Olivier wanted to win and was so focused on his surroundings to use every aspect of the scenery, he almost missed the faint call for help. However, it sounded like a panicked child and Olivier was nothing if not noble. Stopping his horse to listen carefully, he followed the voice as best he could, forgetting about the race completely. After a few minutes, he found the source of the calling and felt a shiver running down his spine as his blood went cold. A local boy, he couldn't be more than 5, was holding onto a branch of the tree he had climbed, trying to stay out of the reach of the wolf glaring at him from below. The child was clearly terrified and looking at the beast, Olivier couldn't blame him.

Readying his musket that he kept at all times, Olivier took aim and fired. The wolf fell to the ground carried by the blast with a gaping hole in its chest. Making sure that it wouldn't attack anymore, Olivier hurried to the tree. The boy practically jumped into his arms, crying in fear and gratitude. Olivier held him tightly and attempted to awkwardly reassure him that everything would be ok. It took a few minutes until he calmed down enough to reveal that his name's Charles and that he was playing with his friends by the forest when the wolf attacked them. Charles tried to get him away from the other kids but he didn't realize it would mean that the wolf would chase after him. He barely managed to climb the tree in time.

Olivier wiped the crocodile tears from the slightly dirty face and did his best to reassure the child once more that he was safe now; he felt oddly protective of the boy sniffling in his arms. Before he could decide what to do, his father joined them. He had heard the shot ringing through the forest and fearing the worst, hurried after the sound. Looking the scene over, the Comte quickly put two and two together and nodded at his son proudly. Olivier told him what he found out from Charles and the Comte smiled at the boy that was clinging to his son reassuringly. The child smiled back but didn't let go of his protector.

Agreeing that it would be best to find the boy's village, they rode out, no longer in a hurry. When they arrived, the village was in an uproar over what happened; several men were getting ready to hunt the beast down. Charles' parents broke into tears when they saw that their boy was safe, thanking the pair over and over for saving their son. The father kissed Olivier's hands in gratitude as Charles told him all about his rescue. Not wanting to insult them, they accepted the offer to visit their house and celebrate. With childish glee since the horror was long forgotten, Charles took Olivier's hand and led him to their home. The Comte had to suppress a chuckle at Olivier's face, it was clear that his son didn't appreciate the handling but wouldn't yell at the boy to stop.

The evening was spent amiably with the Gascon and his father trading war stories, Olivier was mildly surprised to find out that the smaller man used to be a musketeer. Charles spent most of it in Olivier's lap, making the youth uncomfortable but also oddly unwilling to have the child leave. He could keep a better eye on him like this. Soon though, the excitement of the day got to the boy and after half an hour of yawning that almost dislocated his jaw, Charles fell asleep, his head resting on Olivier's shoulder. The mother stood up and offered to take her son, after all Charles was a heavy sleeper and once he conked out, there was almost no waking him. Olivier didn't want to let go of him though and simply followed her lead holding the boy in his arms.

Gently lowering him onto his bed, he couldn't help but ruffle the unruly hair a little, letting a gentle smile grace his face.

"I see that my son has managed to warm his way into your heart. Thank you, for everything. I don't want to think what we would have done had we lost him."

"It is not worth mentioning Madame."

"Yes it is."

With that, she left him in the room as Olivier didn't seem to want to leave just yet. When the Comte went after him since it was time to leave, he found his son sitting by the bed, caressing the boy's hair almost lovingly. He was oddly reminded of a similar scene, only it was him sitting by the bed and Olivier sleeping innocently. Smiling, the Comte knew that one day, his son would make a great father.


	4. D'Artagnan & Aramis

_A/N I admit, I cried while writing this one. Consider yourselves warned. I promise though that there is no more hard angst in the plans for this story._

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><p>Throughout its history, France had suffered from many diseases that spread over the land and claimed millions of lives. And so, it wasn't necessarily surprising, though still heart wrenching, when Gascony fell under a Scarlet fever epidemic. Many died, most of them young, and the Cardinal ordered several priests to go aid the ill as best they could. After doctors they were the most skilled in medicine and offered moral support that only the Church could provide. René had only been in his seminary studies when he was called to come help the suffering people; packing his meagre belongings immediately he joined several of his brothers before they rode out.<p>

Nothing could prepare them for the misery that they witnessed upon their arrival. The whole region was soaked with fear and loss and tear-filled faces of parents who were too young to bury their children. There was little hope as every day, hundreds of people contracted the illness and prayed for salvation. René and his brothers were assigned several villages that they were to visit to check up on the ill or bury the dead. Almost every day, René had to say prayers for the fallen and offer support to their families as best he could. He felt helpless and though he didn't question God's decision to punish his devoted sheep, he was finding it hard to gather the strength to continue. But for what little help they provided, the Gascons were thankful.

The sun had only just risen when René entered his assigned village with a few other brothers, wondering how many didn't survive the night and passed away to better places. Splitting up, they began checking on those they knew to be ill before they visited anybody that was starting to feel the symptoms. Knocking on the door of a family he remembered well, it was opened by the father. René didn't need to ask, it was written all over the man's face. His little daughter, his precious 2 year old gem had perished. René offered what little strength he had to him, talking to the man in hopes of easing the pain at least somewhat. When there was nothing left to say, he went in search of the mother.

It was no surprise to find her slumped in the kitchen, crying her eyes out at the unfairness of it all. He offered her a shoulder to cry on that she accepted gratefully, sobbing hysterically into his robes. He murmured soothing words, it didn't really matter what he said as nothing could change the facts, all that mattered was the sound and the closeness. When her current bout of crying ended, he excused himself and went in search of the deceased. In the back of his mind he remembered that they had a son as well, he couldn't be more than 8, and wondered if the boy knew what happened.

His question was answered when he entered the child's room only to find the boy sitting by the bed, looking at his sister sadly. Fishing in his memory for the boy's name, there were so many names to remember, he thought it might have been Charles. Walking to the duo, he kneeled by the boy and hugged him against his chest. He felt the sobs racking the little body as more wetness soaked his robes and gently rocked him back and forth.

"Shhh, it's going to be alright. Everything's going to be alright."

"But...but... she isn't moving. Why isn't she moving?"

René hated this part the most. Today would be the day that the boy's childhood officially ended.

"She went to a better place. Now, there is no more pain, only calmness and happiness."

"But why couldn't she stay here with us? She was happy with us!"

"I know Charles, I know. But our Lord needs her with him and so he called."

The child didn't react much to the name which René took as a sign that he was correct in remembering.

"I want her back, why can't I have her back?"

He struggled against René's chest for a little before all of his power felt him and he simply slumped against him.

"One day, when the time comes, you will meet with her again Charles. She didn't leave you for forever, she only said goodbye for now."

Sniffling, the boy turned big watery eyes to him.

"Is she really ok? She feels no more pain?"

"No more pain Charles. The only pain she will ever feel is from watching you and how saddened you are because she left."

René was moved by the fact that in the end, once the childish explosion of selfishness ended, the boy only cared whether or not his sister would be ok. He would have made a great older brother, there was no doubt.

"She will be watching me?"

"Yes. Every day when you wake up, every night when you lie down, she will be there watching over you, watching over the brother that always protected her. You will feel her when you run through the field, when you swim in the river. She will be there to lend you strength when you'll need it. She will be there because she loves you as much as you love her."

The boy stopped sobbing as he listened to René, believing his every word and memorizing it in his young heart. From the doorway, the parents listened and watched as the young man consoled their son when they couldn't. Once the boy fell asleep, René took him to his bed and whispered that his sister would always watch over him once more as he tucked him in. Wiping a stray tear from his eye, he braced himself as his work wasn't over yet. Now that he had done what he could for the rest of the family, it was time to take care of the young girl. It was the first house of many he would visit that day, that week, that month.


	5. Aramis & Athos

_A/N And we're getting close to the end with only one more encounter to go. I did get an idea yesterday for kind of a follow up to this and wanted to ask you about it. Would you be interested to read how the inseparables find out that they had in fact met one another before they became musketeers or shall it remain a secret to them? Do let me know!_

_Also, since the last chapter was so angsty, I went for something more light-hearted with this one... or as light-hearted as I can make a chapter with Aramis and Athos :P _

_Enjoy!_

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><p>René knew that there were undisputed perks to being the Priest's favourite in their seminary; he tended to take his favourite boys with him to help out during weddings and other similar joyful occasions. Because René was such a great student of theology and always willing to help out, he was quite often given the privilege to join. Some of the others envied him until the Father reminded them that envy was a sin and that René earned the perks for being an exceptional student which all of them could achieve through hard work. They would hang their heads in shame and promise not to give him a hard time anymore though it was only a question of time before the cycle would start up again. The next time that René had been granted this privilege was when the Father went to marry a young Comte to his beautiful bride; René believed it was the Comte de la Fère.<p>

Usually, going as help meant that he didn't see much of the ceremony itself, he was there to prepare everything needed for it and then to make sure everything was in order for the after celebrations when it came to the Priest. He didn't mind much though as he was allowed to join the festivities once the pair was wed. There was always plenty of food and wine around, and while he wouldn't exactly admit it to their Father, plenty of beautiful women to observe. As a Priest in training, René swore not to touch but there was no harm in looking was there?

This time was no different even if he had to admit that the Fère estate was quite impressive. It was clear that the family had no need for money though he only ever heard positive things about them from anybody whom he asked. They didn't allow their servants to slack but they respected them and rewarded them generously for work done well. They were the proof that it was possible to exist in harmony where the nobles would still live the good life while the lower classes had a comfortable existence. René never wished any of the marriages to fail even if he knew that plenty of them would for various reasons; but this time he really hoped that the young Comte had found a wife that would make him happy as it was clear that he was a man who deserved it. Sending a silent prayer to his Lord, René went back to enjoying the festivities.

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><p>He was drunk, very very drunk. So much so that he had reached the point where everything was highly amusing, even thinking about being drunk. It didn't help that he had found another young man who was on the hunt for some drinking company. The man kept saying that he was the groom but he also seemed adamant about René being the Father who wed him to his beautiful bride so René didn't think much of it. Plus, he had seen the lucky lady and there was no doubt that she was very enticing. He doubted that the groom would be able to stay away from her for too long.<p>

The supposed groom was also clearly drunk himself although he managed to drink twice as much as René without passing out yet. It was difficult keeping track of their conversation, though both enjoyed it, since a sober bystander might have noticed that they weren't necessarily talking about the same topic. Their little hybrid chat consisted of anything from theology to Latin, which both spoke surprisingly well considering their inebriation, from women to horses, from servants to masters, from fighting to loving, from the colour of the wine to the taste of the food, from the brightness of the stars to the shine of the steel, from writing poems to falconry, from seeing everything twice to being so drunk they wouldn't be able to piss in a straight line. All in all, a conversation René shouldn't and normally wouldn't be having with anybody, much less with him knowing that the Father was nearby. But he was merry and not his usual cautious self.

During a small pause in their conversation, a small group of beautiful women passed them by, though René would later admit it might have been just one that his eyes saw multiplied. Feeling encouraged by the wine, the Priest in training gave her a rather lascivious look. She blushed prettily and returned it, making the man beside him laugh heartily.

"Father! Shouldn't women be off limits to you?"

"Why so? Doesn't the Lord teach us to love all? Women ought to be loved too."

"I'll drink to that."

"To women!"

"To women!"

Drowning the contents of their goblets at once, they refilled them before the next toast.

"To mothers!"

"To sisters!"

"To aunts!"

"To cousins!"

"To daughters!"

"To wives!"

"To lovers!"

"To-"

Olivier was interrupted during his new toast by the sound of the Priest's head hitting the table. It seemed that his companion was out for the night. Shrugging, he ignored the toast and just drank, it was his wedding and he would enjoy it to the fullest before the duties of a husband went into effect.

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><p>The next morning, most of the wedding guests woke up with pounding heads after a little too much jollying. René found himself on a soft bed, hearing the Priest's soft snoring from his right. He had no memory of how he had gotten there, nor of what happened during most of the evening but he knew that there was a lecture in store for him.<p>

Similarly, Olivier woke up with a headache himself. Feeling the soft body of his wife resting within his arms, the pain eased as he drew her even closer to his chest, inhaling her sweet perfume as he nuzzled her neck. He was married, he was happy and though he didn't remember most of yesterday, he knew that there were certain husbandly responsibilities demanding his attention.


	6. Athos & Porthos

_And the final part of this story to wrap things up. Thank you very much to everybody who read this and enjoyed! Special hugs and kisses (from the musketeers, none of you care for my own I'm sure :P ) to all those who found the time to comment! It's greatly appreciated and made it so much more fun for me to share this idea with you. Hopefully, it was an interesting take on the challenge which is starting to get rather awesome stories written for it! Do check them out! :D_

_Also, if I do end up writing a follow up at some point, it will most probably be a new story so I will edit this chapter to include it's name. So far I got 2 yes votes and one vote that said both yes and no so still not fully decided. We'll see how it goes._

_And so, without further ado, I present the last chapter of Destined to Meet!_

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><p>Olivier wanted to forget everything. Forget his miserable life, forget the snake that claimed to love him but had been betraying him from the very start, forget that he had faked his own dead to cut any ties to his past. He didn't want to think, he didn't want to feel. He just wanted to get so drunk that his brain would stop working for a while and give him the peace and quiet he wanted. He would decide what to do with himself later, not that it mattered. Now, the only thing he cared about was hard alcohol running down his throat.<p>

Sitting in his own corner of melancholy in a rundown tavern somewhere on the outskirts of Paris, he ignored the other occupants, wanting to be ignored in return. He could vaguely hear some commotion on the other side of the room, surely some drunks who got too brave with ale wanted to start up a fight. He couldn't care less. Let them beat each other black and blue if that's what they wanted. He didn't even look their way when the argument turned louder. However, he did start to care when it escalated into a full out brawl and one of the combatants crashed into his table, spilling the contents of his cup all over Olivier.

An all consuming rage fill him that had little to do with the unfortunate man currently picking himself off of the floor and everything to do with how things kept going wrong for Olivier lately. The moment the man stood up and was ready to charge into fight again, Olivier grabbed him by his collar and threw him against the wall. He wasn't as stocky as his opponent but Olivier had height and anger on his side making him more powerful. Punching his face a few times until his knuckles were bloody, Olivier only stopped when the man couldn't get back up anymore. Kicking him once more for good measure, he turned around just in time to receive a punch to his nose himself. Reeling back, he threw himself at his attacker blindly, making them roll on the floor as they fought for dominance. They managed to turn two tables over before they stopped and destroyed yet another one when Olivier threw him against it.

On the other side of the tavern, Isaac fought with a smile upon his face, taunting his attackers, asking if there was nobody who could take down the mighty Porthos. The name was new and didn't yet have a reputation though Isaac was hell-bent on changing that soon. He had learned from his father that musketeers preferred to use made up names to keep their true identity secret and chose Porthos as his. It sounded strong, fitting the man perfectly.

Grabbing two of his attackers, Isaac smashed their heads together, making them slide to the floor unconscious. Before they hit the ground, he was holding another one of his opponents in a headlock and using him as leverage, kicked a fourth one where it hurt most. His father had always told him to use anything within his vicinity as a weapon, a lesson that Isaac took to heart, so he grabbed a few plates from the nearby table and smashed them over the heads of the next three attackers.

Standing in the back his mouth agape with horror, the owner of the tavern watched with tears in his eyes as his beautiful establishment got ruined, smashed, destroyed by the fighting men. Running outside to get anyone with authority to stop the mayhem before there was nothing of the tavern left, he yelled and screamed for help. By the time a few guards who had been passing by arrived, the majority of brawlers was on the ground either unconscious, bleeding, crawling away, moaning in pain or a combination of these. Only a handful were still standing though most of them looked worse for wear. Splitting up to take care of the aggressive drunkards, they grabbed them. Those that struggled too much, like Isaac, they hit over the head and simply threw out the door; they would know what to do once they woke up as the tavern would be closed. Those who went willingly after seeing what they did to the giant, like Olivier, they simply threw out of the village telling them not to return.

In the middle of the ruins, there stood the owner, lamenting over God's punishment on his poor soul by sending him those brawlers. He couldn't get them to pay for the damage they caused as the guards threw all of them out but he at least memorized the faces of the most ruthless combatants to make sure they would never be welcome to his tavern again. Kicking one of the unconscious men on the floor in frustration, he went to get a broom and started cleaning the mess up.

* * *

><p>Bleeding, bruised and with nowhere to stay, Olivier saddled his horse and decided to go to Paris straight away. In the deepest part of him, he had to admit that fighting like that made him feel better than he had since the terrible realization of deceit and making his mind up, he decided to join the army once he reached the big city. Remembering the musketeers he had met throughout his life, he thought that he would maybe join them. If his memory served him right, musketeers preferred to use fake names to keep their identities hidden; that would be useful since he had no desire to use his real one. Yes, he could get as drunk as he pleased, he could beat people up and he could protect France from treacherous spies that he loathed under a new name. Remembering a Greek child's tale that his father used to tell him when he was small, he thought of Mount Athos, a mountain only accessible by boat that rose from the fight between the Gods and Giants. It would suit Olivier well.<p> 


End file.
